


Esprit de Corpse

by Alexis_Rockford



Series: Fictober 2018: 31 Fandoms in 31 Days [31]
Category: Clue Series (Books), Clue | Cluedo (Board Game), Clue | Cluedo - All Media Types, Clue | Cluedo Chronicles: Fatal Illusion (Video Game)
Genre: AO3 FACEBOOK CHALLENGE, AO3 FB Challenge, AO3 Writers Facebook Group, AO3 Writers Facebook Group Monthly Challenge, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Corpses, Dark Comedy, F/M, Fictober, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Mayhem, Meta, Metafiction, Murder, Slapstick, Stairs, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-14 01:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Rockford/pseuds/Alexis_Rockford
Summary: One by one, the guests head to the Ballroom for a Halloween Masquerade...and end up as corpses on the grand staircase.The characters' personalities are based on the 1990's Clue book series from Scholastic and/or the game Clue Chronicles by Hasbro Interactive.This ficlet was written in response to the Fictober prompt for October 31, 2018: Pile up





	Esprit de Corpse

Mrs. Peacock was certain that she would be the first to arrive at the Halloween Masquerade Ball. Although many of her friends considered being late more fashionable, the well-mannered matron always preferred to be on time. She exited her room on the second floor of Boddy Manor at precisely 5:55 p.m. and headed for the grand staircase She was attired in a bright indigo bunting costume, which was basically a long blue ball gown bedecked with feathers and a bejeweled full-face  mask. She carefully lifted her skirt and began the long walk downstairs.

About halfway down, her blue booted foot came into contact with something and she almost tumbled down the remainder of the flight. “How rude!” she crowed as she attempted to step around the bulky mass. She was about to continue on her way, when, on a whim, she removed the mask to see what she had stepped on.

As soon as she recognized the lumpy form, she emitted a strangled cry that sounded like her namesake bird. It was what appeared to be a zombie, but was in actuality their host, Reginald Boddy, lying face-down on the stairs with a Knife firmly embedded in his back. Suddenly, Mrs. Peacock felt as though she couldn’t breathe. She clutched at her throat only to find that a noose had been draped around it. She pulled at the Rope in horror, but it was no use. After a few minutes of futile struggle, she collapsed on top of the first corpse.

“That’ll teach her to make such disgusting noises,” muttered her assailant. The grandfather clock on the landing below began to chime the hour. The sound of laughter from above informed the killer that further guests were arriving. Quickly, the culprit dashed down the stairs and ducked around the corner.

“I am not dressed as Lucretia Borgia, darling,” Miss Scarlet insisted to the male companion on her arm. “That was last year’s costume. This time, I’m Mata Hari.”

“Pardon me,” the man apologized in a low English accent, “but I fail to see the difference.” His avocado mask failed to hide the twinkle in his bright emerald eyes.

“They are from two completely different centuries, you nitwit,” Scarlet shrieked, hitting him with her jeweled clutch.

“Touch me again, and I’ll remove your fingernails with this spanner,” Green threatened, waving the aforementioned instrument with his free hand.

Scarlet merely smirked at his dorky green tuxedo. “At least I’m not dressed as Mark Zuckerberg.”

Green was about to bring the Wrench down on her ungrateful head when she suddenly pressed her ruby lips against his. His grip on the heavy tool relaxed and it fell to the ground with a clunk. Their impromptu make-out session continued until Scarlet’s foot popped and her bright red pump fell off her foot, sliding down a few steps. “Back in a tick,” she promised with a wink as her foot felt around for the missing shoe. Her toes came into contact with a pile of feathers instead. “What the?”

Green’s gaze followed hers down to the floor. “Oh, great,” he muttered, noticing the corpses. “Cleanup on aisle four!”

Mrs. White came running from a corridor on the ground floor. “What is it?” she asked sourly.

Green merely pointed a long, well-manicured finger at the pile of bodies. “Take care of this, would you?” he snarled.

“Yes, sir. Very good, sir.” She mumbled as she knelt to check her employer’s pulse.

Green adjusted his bow-tie and headed the rest of the way down the flight. “Wait for me, George!” Scarlet called. She carefully extricated her high-heel from Peacock’s gown and was about to follow her lover when she felt a heavy weight on the back of her neck and knew no more.

Green, who had already rounded the corner to the Ballroom, turned back when he heard a metallic clunk. He returned to the stairs only to find Miss Scarlet draped across the other two bodies in a most dramatic fashion. The Candlestick lay next to her, tinged in blood, but the Wrench was nowhere in sight.

Green frowned as he cautiously approached the fresh corpse. “Mrs. White?” he called hesitantly, fear prickling the back of his neck. The next thing he heard was a blood-curdling scream. He grabbed the Candlestick for protection and stealthily made his way back up toward the second floor.

As he turned down the corridor, he bumped into a middle-aged man wearing a ridiculous purple spandex getup complete with a cape and mask. It was a sight he hoped he would forget sooner rather than later.

“I heard a scream!” declared Professor Plum, striking a statuesque pose. “Methinks there be a damsel in distress nearby.”

Green gently massaged his temples with his slender fingers. “That is not how superheroes talk, you prat,” he complained, pinching the Professor’s nose.

“Sowwy,” Plum said in an oddly nasal voice. Green realized that he was talking funny due to the placement of his fingers, so he removed them.

“Did Mrs. White come this way?” he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“Not that I recall,” the Professor stated.

Green slapped his forehead with his free hand. “Terrific.” The forgetful scholar would obviously be no help in solving this mystery.

Plum scratched his thinning hair. “I will look for Mrs. White,” he decided. “You guard the bodies.”

“Whatever for?” protested Green. “It’s not as though they are going anywhere.”

“Good point,” agreed the Professor, “but maybe if you stay here, the pile will stop growing.”

“Hmm.” Green stroked his chin. “You may be right.”

Plum’s face brightened. “Really? I mean, uh, of course I am! The Plumster is always right!” His voice became gradually deeper until by the end of the sentence, he almost sounded like Batman. _Almost._ “Now, excuse me, citizen, I must be off. Up, up, and away!” Plum launched himself down the opposite hallway, and a series of painful sounding crashes ensued.

“Oh, brother,” muttered Green as he returned to the pile of corpses. He knelt down and gently smoothed Scarlet’s hair away from her beautiful face. “Who did this to you, my darling?” he asked softly, although he knew she couldn’t hear him.”

“I did!” said a muffled voice as the Wrench came crashing down on Green’s thick skull.

A few minutes later, Plum returned to see a man in a safari outfit hovering near the pile-up of corpses on the stairs. He was holding the Wrench.

“Aha!” cried Plum, dashing to the scene. “ _You_ are the fiend responsible for all this carnage!”

“What are you talking about?” blustered the Colonel indignantly. “I just got here!”

“A likely story,” scoffed Plum.

“You calling me a liar?” Colonel Mustard spat. “I challenge you to a duel!” He slapped the amnesiac academic across the face with a saffron-hued glove.

“I do not accept,” Plum retorted with all the dignity he could muster considering his moronic costume.

Mustard’s mustache twitched with rage. “Then I have no choice but to do this.” He pulled the Lead Pipe from his jacket and whipped Plum across the face with it. He slumped to the floor on top of Green, Scarlet, Peacock, and Boddy. The pile shifted ever so slightly and the mass of bodies began slowly inching down the steps.

“Thanks for making my job easier,” said a cold voice from the top of the stairs. Mrs. White stood silhouetted against the landing windows with a Revolver in her hand.

“Why are you doing this?” the Colonel asked in shocked disbelief. Despite his rigorous army training, he was trembling from head to foot.

“Because I didn’t want to clean up after your idiotic ball,” she explained as though it should have been obvious. “Caramel apples, candy wrappers, pumpkin goo.” The maid shuddered. “The mere thought is enough to make me want to find a coffin to sleep in until next Halloween.”

“But now you will have to dispose of six bloodied corpses instead,” Mustard pointed out. “Isn’t that just the slightest bit worse?”

Mrs. White looked at him, then looked at the pile of fresh bodies that was sagging ever downwards toward the ground floor. “You’re right!” she gasped in horror. And with that, she turned the gun on herself and pulled the trigger.

“Great,” said Mustard sarcastically as she slumped to the ground. He turned to face forward. “Would you kindly get me out of this situation, please?”

The author merely cackled and smiled as she closed her Google doc. “Happy Halloween!”


End file.
